After a LONG hiatus, I have decided to revamp and complete this story.

Apologies for those who might have been kept waiting.

~L

Previously…

"Malfoy Enterprises is the major donor for your new department, Director." Blaise's tone held the distinctive sadistic glee of a person pushing someone off of the plank.

Granger flushed. Malfoy cursed.

Draco's POV:

Granger's face was purpling at an unnerving speed. The woman had an appalling, though not unsurprising, lack of self control. Gryffindors.

In the back of his mind, Draco had to acknowledge that Blaise's recent dalliances had in no way dulled the man's inherently Slytherin nature. Obviously the man was somewhat capable of stoking a fire even with his head so far up one girl's skirt or another. Draco would be more cautious when talking about his personal affairs in the future.

"It appears the very thought of working alongside you has rendered the girl speechless." Blaise leaned over to Draco conspiratorially.

"If only I could elicit a similar reaction from you."

"Touchy. Touchy." Blaise reclined his chair, removing himself from Granger's line of vision. "Though speaking of 'Touchy Touchy.' France and Italy have really allowed Miss Granger to develop some promising assets, haven't they?"

"That is outsidethe scope of my interests." Draco ground his teeth together in irritation.

"Merlin, Draco. What is it that that they say 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.'"

"I assure you that it isall work whenever Granger is involved. And no one says that."

"It's a Muggle turn of phrase." Blaise leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes. "The girl has always been full of surprises. She managed to get this far with you none the wiser."

Draco realized Granger was staring at them, though from her expression her mind was elsewhere-as usual. It seemed that he had only been peripherally aware of what she had been up to in the past few years; he should have foreseen the Ministry throwing the Director position to the bushiest of the Golden Trio. Her return would bring publicity and a certain legitimacy to the burgeoning department. Still, self-publishing a book for Muggles and running a Ministry department were entirely separate beasts.

Draco's knee twitched and brushed the magazine in the seat pocket. He growled in frustration.

Bankrolling the new department was unavoidable. The deal had already cost him a year of backdoor dealing with the bureaucrats that ran the Ministry. This was the last push Malfoy Enterprises needed to brush off the shadows left by the War, not to mention its success would thicken his family's revenue stream for generations.

Though he had little reason to fear for his family's considerable fortune, Draco understood that a new market had to be tapped in order to replace the departments of Malfoy Enterprises that he had permanently shuttered, mainly those involving the Dark Arts. The Malfoys' investments ran deep, and extricating himself and his family from those ties had been an arduous task. At first he had relished burning those bridges, but now he was...exhausted.

Draco knew from the light snoring that Blaise had succumbed to a post-coital nap. Perfectly typical-The man was becoming a narcoleptic. Meanwhile Granger was probably working herself up into a fit. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. Better to meet this head on. Her temper was worse than the Weasel's because she knew how to use it.

"Granger, I must assure you, despite whatever inner monologue might be raging inside of that head of yours, that any interaction we have in a professional sphere will be conducted with—." Draco stopped short as he glanced over to find that Granger was completely lost to him, wrapped up in that head of hers.

Fine. He was glad for a respite, however brief, from what was turning out to be a grueling hour and a half.

After an interminable length of time, Draco's hands were feeling itchy for his wand again. He could hear the wind whipping past the windows. Draco's neck was beginning to ache from the seats. Blaise seemed comfortable enough with his chair in its reclined position.

The bastard dragged him here and didn't have the decency to at least keep him company.

Draco felt slightly mollified because Granger was equally unoccupied, staring off into space. Looking at her now was like taking a dip into a Pensieve. The War had changed all of them, but Granger looked not a day older than the last time he had seen her. He was going to entrust his family's name and years of work on this woman who looked like she had just finished her NEWTs. But Draco knew better. He knew if she rolled up her left sleeve he'd see evidence enough of the War that had thrust them both into adulthood.

"Malfoy. Whatare you staring at?"

Grey eyes snapped up to meet brown.

Hermione's POV:

From the look on Malfoy's face, he hadn't known the Department he was funding had hired her. How? How could this detail have slipped by without her realizing it? She would have remembered it from the documents they'd sent over…

Hermione paused in understanding. She hadn't exactly been keeping herself current on all of the decisions and developments sent over from the Ministry. The donor list was probably mixed into the pile of papers currently waiting for her perusal in her handbag.

To be honest, Hermione still wasn't settled the idea that she was returning to Wizarding London. When the ink of her signature has dried on the contract, she had known it was a good decision, but whether it was the right one remained to be seen.

After Voldemort had collapsed into dust, all Hermione had wanted was time. Time to mourn. Time to fall apart and put herself back together. She understood why that was impossible then. She was Hermione Granger. She had done the appearances with Harry and Ron, but, in many ways, it seemed like they had fallen from one battle into another. Harry and Ron had figured out ways to cope with their notoriety, but Hermione couldn't get over the feeling that she was being dissected under a microscope.

They had fought and won a war over blood purity, but the public and media had worked themselves into a fit trying to figure out how a clever, but otherwise ordinary, Muggle-born girl had helped save the Wizarding World. Wherever she wasn't placed on an impossible pedestal, Hermione found herself the focus of skeptics and critics.

So Hermione took the first job that had offered a way out. It may not have been the most Gryffindor choice, but it was an act of self-preservation, and now Hermione was throwing herself back in.

When her parents had come to help her with the move, it only took one glance for her mother to suggest that the Grangers take a holiday in Wizarding London. Hermione was grateful.

The last time she had been with her parents in Wizarding London, she had been a First Year. Her father had clucked disapprovingly at the Fizzing Whizzbees in the window at Honeydukes. Her mother had bought her her first copy of Hogwarts: A History. She had been practically buzzing with barely contained excitement. Everything was new. Fresh.

This time, she was traveling with Draco Malfoy.

Life was funny like that.

He was looking at her. She could feel it. It was infuriating that even after a war and four years of solitude, the youngest Malfoy could still get under her skin.

"Malfoy. Whatare you staring at?"

She chided herself as soon as she felt the words slip out. It made her seem defensive. She turned, perhaps to apologize for her outburst, when the look in his eyes gave her pause.

For the moment before his eyes hardened, she had caught him in a moment. Like he was considering something. It was unnerving.

"It occurs to me that you haven't changed at all." His tone immediately put Hermione on guard.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Malfoy."

"My investments in the MED Department have been considerable. To have them on the shoulders of someone who hasn't been inthe country for quite some time is troubling to say the least."

Of course. For him, it always comes down to money and power. Investments and dividends.

"Surely I don't have to remind you that magic affords a certain convenience in information dispersal. My being outside of the country has no bearing on my understanding of current research or qualifications for the position."

Hermione was getting worked up again. Really, of all people to be stuck on a plane with, the universe gave her the most exhausting one.

"I'm not referring to your ability to stay in a lab and tinker with Muggle chemicals." The corner of Draco's mouth twitched upward into a smirk. "Running a department requires more than just a head for figures and some fancy wand work. I'm referring to publicity, Granger. From the second you step foot in Wizarding London, the reporters are going to be buzzing around. Prying. Poking."

Hermione felt her throat constrict slightly. She knew he was right, but she'd be damned if she would allow Malfoy of all people to lecture her about anything.

"I appreciate your concern, Malfoy, but I assure you that the Ministry fully informed me about the duties of my post. And-"

"Pardon me, Miss" Hermione hadn't noticed their stewardess approaching. The woman didn't seem to like her job very much. She looked like she had sucked a lemon.

"The captain has ordered passengers to fasten their seatbelts and return their tray tables and seats to an upright position. We are entering our final descent."

Before Hermione could mutter an apology, the lady turned her disdain to Draco's row. The woman leaned over Blaise to press the release and roughly jerked his seat upright, jolting the man awake.

Well that was uncalled for. The service on airlines had really declined over the past few years. If she hadn't been going with her parents, who were still skittish about magical transportation, she'd have Apparated.

Blaise stared around groggily, not understanding what had woken him up, until he met eyes with the stewardess.

"Buckle up, Darling. Flight's over."

Thank goodness, thought Hermione.